


A Walk in the Woods

by HootieMcBoobs



Series: Hours and Hours [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Horcrux Hunting, Masturbation, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:09:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3552083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HootieMcBoobs/pseuds/HootieMcBoobs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione needs a break.<br/> </p><p>  <i>Although she was certain that the other two were doing it too – Harry wasn't nearly as good at silencing spells as he seemed to think – if they ever caught her, she thought she would quite literally die of embarrassment.</i></p><p>  <i>And Hermione Granger was not the kind of person to misuse the word “literally.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Walk in the Woods

Hermione was tired.

They'd been out in the wilderness now for what seemed to be years, hunting for what seemed to be non-existent Horcruxes. They were grasping at straws now, latching on to any possible lead, no matter how flimsy. She hadn't properly showered or slept in days and there was no end to that in sight. She was under incredible stress, with a seemingly endless mountain of research to get done on an impossibly short deadline.

It was like it was final exam week, all the time.

She sighed and rolled her neck. She'd been poring over this book for hours now, trying to translate the ancient runes scribbled on the inside cover, ancient runes that weren't in any of her numerous books on ancient runes. 

They'd found the book half buried in mud on the outskirts of a property rumoured to be an old Death Eater safe house, possibly an old hiding place for Voldemort. The house itself had been completely empty, with no signs of anyone living in it for at least half a century, but they'd stumbled on the book as they went to leave the property and, well, they were grasping at straws.

The book itself was mundane – a book of British sausage recipes, which had made the trio's shrivelled stomachs growl – but on the inside cover, Hermione had discovered a smattering of ancient runes. Some of the runes were familiar but some... some she had never seen before and didn't appear in any of her textbooks.

She had been trying to crack the code all day. Most aggravating of all was the fact that the notes on this book, like so many other “clues” before it, probably had nothing to do with Horcruxes at all. It was probably some ancient wizard's grocery list, for God's sake. It was going to turn out to be nothing.

But it _might_ be something.

So here she was, staring at the runes with bleary eyes and a mind that would simply no longer work.

She'd gotten herself into this situation before. She had been going round and round in circles on these runes for hours until her mind had essentially gone into lockdown, stalling like her father's beloved old Austin Metro, who, if it started getting hinky after driving too many highway miles, simply needed a cooldown period and a restart before it could get to working again.

That was her problem. She'd been working too hard and her brain needed a restart. And there was one surefire way to do that.

She abruptly slammed the book shut, causing Ron and Harry to jump in their chairs. “I'm going for a walk,” she said, pushing back from the table. “I need to clear my head.”

“Want company?” Ron said.

She nearly laughed. “No, thank you,” she said politely. No, for what she was about to do, company was the last thing she wanted.

“Be careful,” Harry called.

“I will,” she said, casting one last look at Ron for inspiration because while he wasn't going to be with her in person, he was certainly going to be there in spirit, doing all kinds of wonderful, delicious things to her that she didn't even have names for.

The real Ron was looking back at her with a slight frown. She flushed, praying that he hadn't somehow learned Legilimency without her knowing, and pushed her way out of the tent.

She felt better the instant she was outside. She stood quietly for a moment, taking deep breaths of the calm night air. The combination of the change of environment and the knowledge that her mental frustration was soon to be at an end was already doing wonders.

Masturbation had always cleared her mind, allowing her to relax, refocus. For Hermione, it wasn't about sexual desire, per se, the release of an orgasm was more of a release of her mind. It was a reset, a reboot, a way to clear her brain of frustration and clutter and start fresh again.

Ever since she had discovered the relief it'd brought her, she'd been using it as her own personal form of stress-relief. She was at it like a _fiend_ during exam times and, most recently, the continued bleakness and stress of the Horcrux hunt had her frequently on edge. Hence the large number of _walks_ she was taking of late.

There was something incredibly liberating about masturbating outside, too. When the horcrux hunt had first started to drag on and her frustration had become unbearable, she had tried, covertly, to sneak in a few sessions in the tent ( _well_ -protected by privacy spells, she was incredibly paranoid about being caught) but they had mostly ended in frustration. The strong aroma of cats, the general stuffiness of the tent and, most importantly, the proximity of her two friends, had always prevented her from letting go enough to be able to find release.

Although she was certain that the other two were doing it too – Harry wasn't nearly as good at silencing spells as he seemed to think – if they ever caught her, she thought she would quite literally die of embarrassment.

And Hermione Granger was not the kind of person to misuse the word “literally.”

So desperation had driven her out into the wilderness and she found that it met her needs extraordinarily well. “A walk” was always the excuse she used, and neither of the boys had ever questioned her on it. Just a few minutes of solitude in the woods was all she needed, with only a blanket and the mental image of a certain red-head the only requirements.

She was resigned to the fact that Ron was the star of her fantasies. She'd tried picturing other men and it always started well enough, but as she got closer and closer to release, what finally pushed her over the edge each time was the thought of her red-headed best friend, what his body would feel like under her hands, the taste of his skin, his weight on top of her -

She gave one last careful look behind her to make sure she was alone then cast her privacy spells ( _repeatedly_ ), then fished a soft blanket out of her beaded bag and shook it out on the ground. Without any fanfare, she stripped off her pants and underwear and lay down, spreading her legs apart.

She lay still for a moment, feeling the cool night breeze trailing over her bare legs and enjoying the anticipation. It wouldn't take her long today, she didn't think. She'd caught Ron in just a towel coming out of the lake this afternoon and the sight of him shirtless, beads of water dripping down his stomach toward the skimpy towel held low and loose around his hips - 

She squirmed at the memory, feeling her pulse start to race even though she hadn't touched herself yet. 

He was so incredibly attractive to her, it was maddening. His constant proximity these past few months was an endless source of distraction. Even this hard living in the wild, where things like shaving and showers and haircuts were at a premium, did nothing to quell her desire for him. She almost thought it improved him, made him look older, more mature. A man, rather than a boy. A tall, lean, rugged, incredibly attractive man.

She may be doing this for the mental release, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to enjoy herself a little at the same time.

She sighed and dipped one finger inside herself, feeling the pool of moisture there. She traced her moistened finger gently over her clitoris, enjoying the first sparks that shot outward from her core. Her eyes fluttered closed as she traced the same path again, a little harder this time, and her thighs twitched in anticipation.

Eager to get on with it, needing the relief of the release, she spread her legs wider and began a faster rhythm, rocking her hips against her hand to increase the friction.

Her brain didn't waste any time on foreplay either. In her mind Ron was already fucking her, his thick cock pounding into her in a hard fast, rhythm while she wrapped her legs around his hips and thrust up against him - 

No, this wasn't going to take long at all.

She whimpered and sped up her movements, her eyes tightly closed. She was thrusting against her fingers now, matching the movements in her mind, she was almost there -

A loud snap of a twig startled her eyes open.

“I'm sorry,” Ron said in a dazed voice.

She stared up at him in horror, her hand still resting between her legs. Where had he come from? Why hadn't her spells worked? Oh _GOD_ , this couldn't be happening.

“I was just - ” He gestured vaguely behind him. “ - and then I - ” He pointed at her briefly before dropping his arm to his side. “I'm sorry.” He sounded as though he'd been hit in the head by a very fast-moving Bludger.

They stared at each other silently for a long, heated moment. Ron's face had attained a shade of red she'd never seen before. He kept losing his battle to keep his eyes away from her crotch and every time they fell there he'd tear them away and his face would get redder and redder. 

“I'm sorry,” Ron finally said again dully. “I'm going to - ”

“Don't go.”

It came out a breathy plea. Ron looked almost as stunned as she felt. _Why had she said that? What was she doing?_ She knew what she _should_ be doing, getting her wand out and casting an Obliviate charm on Ron because this was quite clearly the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to anyone in the entire history of the world and it was going to haunt her for the rest of her life.

Instead she felt strangely calm. “Don't go,” she said again, stronger this time. 

He shook his head, mouth agape, and his eyes followed her fingers, transfixed, as she dipped back inside herself again then resumed her movements over her clitoris. 

“Hermione,” he groaned and she'd swear she saw his knees buckle. He ran a hand over his own crotch where she could now see a sizable bulge, even through his jeans. She couldn't stifle her moan at the sight of it, the knowledge that he might want her too - 

Ron finally tore his gaze away from the junction of her thighs to meet her eyes and the hunger on his face drove her desire even higher. 

She was already almost there again but she wanted more. She needed more. She needed him. _No, Hermione, don't say it_ -

“Help me.”

It was almost comical how quickly he was between her legs, she didn't think she'd ever seen him move so fast. There was no time for second-guesses, no time for regrets or embarrassment or shyness. Ron leaned over her with a look of intense concentration, running his cool hands briefly down her inner thighs before spreading her lips gently apart with his gloriously long fingers and lowering his head.

The first touch of his mouth made her shriek out loud. In all her life there had never been anything but her own hand and now there was Ron's tongue, broad and flat, warm and wet. It was _exquisite_. Another pass and she threw a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries, her eyes fluttering closed as she struggled to remember how to breathe.

Another achingly slow touch, with a swirl thrown in this time, and she was babbling like a child. There was a brief pang of jealousy at the realization that he was probably this good from practising on Lavender Brown but it was quickly washed away with the next, harder pass of his tongue that sent her hips arching off the ground in a desperate bid for more.

“Ron,” she moaned and he rewarded her by bearing down harder, giving her the contact she craved so desperately. Harder and faster against her now, relentless, merciless, as she unabashedly ground her hips up against his face and hurtled toward the edge.

She came hard and long, her whole body tensing from her curled toes to her clenched fists, and then finally releasing and letting her collapse, boneless, back onto the blanket.

It took a long time to come back into herself, to catch her breath and slow her pounding heart. “God, Ron,” she sighed, still unable to open her eyes.

“Better?” he murmured, his scruffy face still nuzzling against her sensitive inner thighs.

She nodded dumbly, idly running her fingers through his hair. It had _never_ been like this, never. When she came she had cried out so loudly she was certain her parents could hear her in Australia, privacy spells or not. The pleasant aftershocks of her orgasm still twitched through her as she finally forced her eyes open again to gaze up at the clear night sky.

“That was incredible,” she said dreamily. “Ron, you...” her voice tailed off. “Ron... wait... I've got it! It's the futhorc!”

“I... pardon?” Ron said.

“In the book we found!” she said impatiently. “Those aren't runes from the Elder Futhark, they're from the Anglo-Saxon _futhorc_. That's why I could recognize some of them but not all! All my Hogwarts textbooks are based on the Elder Futhark, that's why the runes are missing! My God, it's so _simple_!”

“So then,” she said, her mind racing ahead, “it's simply a matter of taking the runes I know, because they should still be correct, and then just finding a futhorc text book to fill in the rest.” She frowned, shimmying her way back into her underpants. “There was that little bookstore we saw in Caerphilly! I remember! I saw one in the window!” She jumped excitedly to her feet and began frantically pulling up her pants. “I know we don't have any money, but I'm sure I have another old book in my bag that I can trade, I'll just have to transfigure myself a bit to be safe.”

“We need to get back to Harry,” she said, shooing him off the blanket so she could fold it up and dump it back into her beaded bag. She charged back up the path to the tent, eager to get back to work. When she didn't hear Ron coming behind her, she paused and looked back.

He was still standing where she had left him, looking at her with a somewhat hurt expression.

She scowled at him impatiently for a moment before she remembered what had just transpired between them. Released and renewed, her brain had charged right back into work mode without her body or her heart having a chance to process what had happened.

He had just given her the most mind-blowing orgasm of her life. And not just anyone. _Ron_. The same Ron she had been drawn to since she was a little girl. The same Ron she has fantasized about for years. The same Ron she has been in love with for as long as she could remember.

And now she was running away from him.

She blushed furiously. “I'm sorry,” she murmured. 

“For?” he said, sounding more than a bit nervous.

“For walking away,” she said. “I just got carried away when I cracked that code. You know what I'm like.”

He nodded and gave a quick laugh.

“But,” she added shyly, “I'm not sorry for what happened.”

“Oh,” he said, puffing his chest out a little. “Okay. Me neither.”

“Good.”

“So,” Ron said. “Every time you said you were taking a walk, you were, uh...?”

“Yes,” she said, cheeks blazing. “Pretty much.”

“My code word is looking for firewood,” he said, ruefully scratching the back of his head and grinning at her.

“Oh?” she said, then thought back to how many times in the past few weeks Ron had said he was going to look for firewood. “ _Really_?! Wow!”

“Yeah,” he said. “I always need to, uh, look for firewood.”

“Maybe I can help you with that sometime,” she said, marvelling again at her boldness. _Where had this person come from?_

Ron swallowed so hard she could hear it even though they were several feet away from each other. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I'd like that.”

“Okay. Soon.”

 _Or now_. The intense way he was looking at her, the hunger in his eyes, she just wanted to throw Ron back down on the blanket and do nothing but help him, er, _look for firewood_ for the rest of the night. Maybe even the week. Maybe forever.

But there was work to be done, and now that her mind was clear and focused again, she needed to get back to the tent and get back to working on that translation. 

Ron seemed to understand. “Soon,” he agreed. 

“So back to the tent?”

“Ladies first,” he said, giving her a mock bow. “At least this time.” He grinned at her salaciously, making sure she understood that yes, he _did_ mean it like that.

She practically ran back to the tent, giddy with both the events of the night and the promise of things to come. She excitedly told Harry about her breakthrough with the runes. He looked as confused as Ron, but was nonetheless buoyed by her enthusiasm.

Harry had gotten a roaring fire going, but she threw another few logs on anyway, catching Ron's eye as she did so. “Almost out of firewood,” she said casually.

“I guess I'll have to go out looking soon,” Ron said, equally casual.

She smiled at him, trying to put as much promise on her face as she could, and threw another log on the fire for good measure.


End file.
